It was a long walk back to his rooms and Shannow could feel the eyes of many upon him as he strode along the dusty street. The former riders were now grouped around the eating- house, but they did not speak as he pa.s.sed. Clem Steiner was wailing inside the Traveller's Rest; the young man rose as he entered.

'I knew,' he said. 'Something told me you were a fighter when I first seen you sitting in the Long Bar. What is your name, friend?'

'Shannow.'

'I should have guessed it: the Jerusalem Man. You're a long way from home, Shannow.

Who sent for you? Brisley? Fenner?'

'No one sent for me, Steiner. I ride where I please.'

'You realise we may have to go up against one another?'

Shannow stared at the young man for several seconds. 'That would not be advisable,' he said softly.

'd.a.m.n right there. You'd better remember that. Meneer Scayse would like a few words with you, Shannow. He's in the Long Bar.'

Shannow turned away and made for the stairs.

'You hear what I said?' Steiner called, but Shannow ignored him and climbed to his room.

He poured himself a cup of water from a stone jug and sat down to wait in a chair by the window.

Edric Scayse stepped from the Long Bar. 'He's gone, Mr Scayse,' said Steiner. 'Want me to fetch him back?'

'No. Wait here for me.'

He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, his raven-black hair cut short and swept back over his head without a parting. Clean-shaven, his face was strong and angular, the dark eyes deep-set, and he moved with smooth a.s.surance. Reaching the door of Shannow's room he knocked once.

'Come in. It is open,' came a voice from within.

Scayse stepped inside. His eyes fastened on the man sitting in the chair by the window, and he re-evaluated his plan. He had intended to offer Shannow employment, but this was now an option that would serve only .to make the man before him more of an enemy.

'May I sit, Mr Shannow?'

'I thought the term was Meneer in this part of the country.'

'I am not from this part of the country.' He walked to the chair opposite the Jerusalem Man and lowered himself into it.

'What is it that you want, Mr Scayse?'

'Merely to apologise, sir. The man who stole your horse worked for me. He was a hot- headed youngster. I wished to a.s.sure you that there will be no revenge attacks - I have made that clear to all my riders.'

Shannow shrugged, but his expression did not change. 'And?'

Scayse felt a flicker of anger but suppressed it, forcing a smile instead. 'There is no "and".

It is merely a call of courtesy, sir. Do you intend staying long in Pilgrim's Valley?'

'No. It is my intention to ride further south.'

'To seek the wonders in the sky, no doubt. I envy you that. It will be at least three months before I have a.s.sembled a force to cross the Wall.'

'A force? For what purpose?' asked Shannow.

'Out of his mouth comes a sharp sword with which to strike down the nations, I quoted Scayse. 'He will rule them with an iron sceptre.'

He watched Shannow's expression change from open hostility to wariness.

'So you read your Scripture, sir. But what does it mean to you?'

Scayse leaned forward, pressing home his advantage. 'I have gathered information about the land Beyond the Wall, and the wonders there. There are great signs in the sky. Of this there is no doubt. There is a shining sword, surrounded by stars and crosses, and upon the sword is a name that no one can read. Exactly as the Scripture says. What is more, the land is peopled by beasts who walk like men and worship a dark G.o.ddess - a witch who performs obscene rites among them. Or as the Scripture has it, Mr Shannow: "There I saw a woman sitting on a scarlet beast that was covered with blasphemous names" Or there again: "The Beast I saw resembled a leopard, but had feet like those of a bear and a mouth like that of a lion." All these things are Beyond the Wall, Mr Shannow. I intend to go there and find the Sword of G.o.d.'

'And for this you gather brigands and pistoleers?'

'You would have me take farmers and teachers?'

Shannow stood and moved to the window. 'I am no debater, sir. Nor am I a judge.' Behind him Scayse masked a smile of triumph and remained silent. Shannow turned, his pale eyes fixing on Scayse. 'But neither a'm I a fool, Mr Scayse. You are a man who seeks power - domination over your fellows. You are not a seeker after truth. Down there your men are feared. But that is no business of mine.'

'You are correct, Mr Shannow, when you talk of the pursuit of power. But that is not an evil thing in itself, surely? Was not David the son of a farmer, and did he not rise to be King over Israel? Was not Moses the child of a slave? G.o.d gives a man talents and therefore it is right that he should use them. I am no wilful murderer, nor brigand. My men may be ...

boisterous and rough, but they pay for their wares and treat the folk of this community with respect. Not one of them has been found guilty of murder or rape, and those who have been caught stealing have been dealt with by me. There will always be rulers, Mr Shannow. It is not a sin to become one.'

Shannow returned to his chair and poured a mug of water which he offered to Scayse, who refused it with a smile. 'As I said, I am no judge. I will not be in this community for long.

But I have seen other such communities. The violence will grow, and there will be many more deaths unless order is established. Why is it, sir, that with your quest for power you have not established such order?'

'Because I am not a tyrant, Mr Shannow. The gambling places in the eastern sector are not under my jurisdiction. I have a large farm and several herds of dairy and beef cattle - and I own the largest silver mine. My lands are patrolled by my men, but the town itself - though I have interests here - is not my concern.'

Shannow nodded. 'Did you find anything of interest in the wreck of the ship?'

Scayse chuckled. 'I heard about your ... altercation. Yes, I did, Mr Shannow. There were some gold bars and several interesting pieces of silver plate. But nothing as grand as you saw on the t.i.tanic.'

Shannow betrayed no surprise, he merely nodded and Scayse went on: 'Yes, I have seen the t.i.tanic. I know of the Sipstra.s.si Demon Stone that resurrected it, and of your battle with Sarento. I also am no fool, sir. I know that the world of the past contained wonders beyond our imaginings, and that they are lost to us, perhaps for ever. But this new world has power also. And I will find it Beyond the Wall.'

'The Demon Stone was destroyed,' said Shannow. 'If you know of Sarento, you know of his evil and of the h.e.l.lborn War he caused. Such power is not suited to men.'

Scayse rose. 'I have been honest with you, Mr Shannow, because I respect you. I do not seek a confrontation with you. Do not misunderstand me; I do not speak from fear. But I want no unnecessary enemies. Sipstra.s.si is merely a power source, not unlike the guns you wear. In evil hands, it will create evil. But I am not an evil man. Good day to you.'

Scayse moved back into the hallway and continued down the stairs to where Steiner waited.

'You want me to take him out, Mr Scayse?'

'Stay away from him, Clem. That man would kill you.'

'Is that a joke, Mr Scayse? There's no one could take me with a pistol.'

'I didn't say he could beat you, Clem. I said he would kill you.'

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

For two long, hot days Nu-Khasisatra walked across the Great Wide. The mountains seemed no closer, but his strength was ebbing. As a shipbuilder and a craftsman, he had long been proud of the enormous strength he could bring to bear, lifting great weights of wood or stone. But this seemingly endless walk called not for strength but for stamina, and on this count Nu realised he was lacking. He sat down in the shade of a shallow gully and took the Sipstra.s.si Stone from the deep pocket of his coat. He was loath to use its power, not knowing how much was left, nor how much was needed to allow him to return home to Pashad and his children. Unlike many from the City of Ad, Nu had taken only one wife, the daughter of Axin the sailmaker. He had loved her from the first moment their hands had touched, and he loved her still. There was little strength in Pashad, fragile as a spring flower, but there was a well of giving in her without which Nu felt lost.

The last time Nu had been in possession of Sipstra.s.si it had been a fragment, a sliver no bigger than a torn fingernail. Its power had been used up in a day - fuelling his strength; forcing back the awesome power of time, turning his greying hair black and filling his muscles with the strength of youth. But what he held now was twenty times larger, the gold veins thick and pulsing with power.

Nu had escaped the Daggers, but he had not journeyed to Balacris. He had come to some foreign land far across the sea, where men wore strange raiment. Use. your mind, you fool!

he told himself. How can you return home unless you first know from where you are starting? According to legend, the Elder Priests had used Sipstra.s.si to free their spirits to fly the universe. If they could do it, so could Nu-Khasisatra. He moved to his knees and prayed to the Great One, using ten of the thousand names known to Man, then he gripped the stone tightly and pictured himself rising through the gathering clouds above. His mind swam and he felt suddenly free, like a ship whose anchor falls away. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring down at a white wilderness of mountains and valleys with not a trace of life. Above him the sky was blue and clear, but the landscape below was ghostly and silent. Fear swept through him. Where had he flown? He dropped towards the snow- covered world... and pa.s.sed into the clouds.

For a time he was blind, then he broke through the grey-white mist and saw the land far below, green and lush, sectioned by snow-topped mountains and ribbon rivers, great valleys and dales, forests and plains. He scanned the horizon for signs of life, for cities or towns, but there was nothing save the vastness of nature. Nu's spirit swooped closer to the plain. Now he could see his own tiny figure in the gully below and, some miles to the west, a camp of wagons with white canvas covers and oxen feeding on the hillside.

He ventured further, over the mountains, and saw an ugly township with squat wooden buildings and a large gathering of people in a meadow. Pa.s.sing over them, he continued south. A great wall, similar in structure to the sea wall at Ad, met his eyes and he dropped towards it. The stones were hewn in the same way, but they were far older than Pendarric's Wall. He moved on, wondering how a nation which could erect such a wall could have regressed to creating such hideous buildings as he had seen in the small town. Then he saw the city - and his heart sank.

There was the domed palace, the marble terraces, the long statue-lined Road of Kings - and to the south the curving line of the dock. But beyond it there was no glittering ocean, only fields and meadows. Nu hovered, scanning the people strolling the streets. Everything was as he remembered, yet nothing was the same. He sped to the temple and halted by the statue of Derarch the Prophet.

The prophet's face was worn away, the holy scrolls in his hands reduced to no more than white sticks.

Shaken beyond endurance, Nu fled back to the sky.

What he had seen was like a vision from the Fires of Belial.

And he knew the truth. This was not some strange, distant land; this was home, this was the City of Ad. He recalled his vision of the sea roaring up, and the three suns in the sky.

This was the world of the future.

He returned to his body and wept for all that had been lost: for Pashad and his sons, for Bali and his friends, and for all the people of a world soon to die ... of a world that had already died.

Nu-Khasisatra wept for Atlantis.

At last his tears dried and he lay back against a rock, his body aching, his heart heavy.

What point was there in his warnings to the people? Why had the Lord Chronos used him, if there was no hope?

No hope? You of all men should know the folly of that thought.

His first ship had been caught in a terrible storm. All his money had been tied into the venture, and more. He had borrowed heavily, pushing himself and his family into awesome debt. As the voyage was nearing completion with the cargo secure in the hold and his fortune a.s.sured, the winds had turned foul, the sea had roared; great waves pummelled the vessel, hurling it towards the black cliffs poised like a hammer above them.

Most of his crew had panicked, flinging themselves over the side and risking almost certain death in the raging sea. Not so Nu-Khasisatra. Holding to the tiller, straining with all the power in his formidable frame, he locked his gaze to the black monstrosity looming over him. At first there had been no response, but then the sleek craft began to turn. Nu's muscles had been stretched to tearing point, but his ship missed the cliff and raced on towards the peril of a hidden reef.

Only three out of thirty crew members remained with him, and these clung to the timbers, unable to aid their master for fear of being washed overboard.

'The anchor!' yelled Nu into the teeth of the storm. Salt spray lashed his face, hurling the words back at him. Lifting one arm from the tiller, he pointed at the rope brake by the iron anchor and one of his crewmen began to haul himself back to the stern. A huge wave hit him and he lost hold; his body slid down the deck. Nu released the tiller and dived for the man, catching his tunic just as he was about to topple over the side. Clamping his right hand to a stay, Nu hauled the seaman to safety. The ship sped towards the reefs, hidden like the fangs of a monster below the foaming waves. Nu staggered upright and forced a path to the tiller. The seaman struggled with the anchor brake ... suddenly it gave and the iron weight hissed over the side.

The ship shuddered and Nu let out a cry of despair, for he believed they had struck the reef. But it was only the anchor biting hard into the coral below them. The ship bobbed and the cliff which had been such a threat now became a shelter from the ferocity of the storm.

The wind died down in the bay. 'We're still shipping water,' shouted the crewman Nu had rescued.

'Start the pump, and see where the problem lies,' Nu ordered, and the man raced below.

The two other crewmen followed him and Nu sank to the wet deck. The moon broke clear of the storm clouds as he glanced to port. Rows of jagged rocks, black and gleaming, could be seen above the swell. Had the ship struck any of them, it would have been ripped open from prow to stern. Nu hauled himself upright and moved to the starboard side. Here too the reef could be seen. Somehow - by some miracle - he had steered the vessel through a narrow channel between the reefs.

The crewman returned. 'The level is dropping. The ship is sound, master.'

'You have earned a good bonus, Acrylla. I'll see you get it.'

The man grinned, showing broken front teeth. 'I thought we were finished. It looked so hopeless.'

Nu-Khasisatra's fortune had been built on that first adventure, and his reply to Acrylla was now carved on the tiller of each of his ships: 'Nothing is ever hopeless - as long as courage endures.y The memory of that night came flooding back to him and he pushed himself to his feet.

Despair, he realised, was as great an enemy as Sharazad or the King's Daggers. His world was doomed, but that did not mean Pashad must die. He had a Sipstra.s.si Stone and he was alive.

'I will come for you, my love,' he said. 'Through the vaults of time or the Valleys of the d.a.m.ned.' He glanced up at the sky. 'Thank you for reminding me, Lord.'

Beth sat on the hillside under a spreading pine and watched the children playing on the makeshift swing-boards and see-saw planks down by the stream. The high meadow was seething with townspeople, farmers and miners, enjoying the bright sunshine and the food at the stalls. Elsewhere there were games of strength or skill, knife and hatchet hurling, rifle shooting, wrestling and boxing. The miners held a jousting tourney, where one man sat upon the shoulders of another gripping a mock lance with a wooden ball at either end.

A similar team would rush at them, and there was much shouting of encouragement as the riders proceeded to hammer their opponents to the ground. The barbecue fires were lit and the smell of roasting beef -compliments of Edric Scayse - filled the air. Beth leaned her back to the tree and relaxed for the first time in days. Her small h.o.a.rd of coin was swelling, and soon she would move the family out to the rich southland north of the Wall, and there build a farm of her own on land leased from Scayse. It would be a hard life, but she would make it work. A shadow fell across her and she looked up to see Jon Shannow standing hat in hand.

'Good morning ... Beth. Your children are far from us, and in little danger. May I join you?'

'Please do,' she said and he swung round and sat with his back to the tree. She moved out to sit in front of him. 'I know who you are,' she told him. 'The whole town knows.'

'Yes,' he said wearily. 'I expect they do. It is a fine gathering and people are enjoying themselves. That is good to see.'

'Why did you come here?' she pressed.

'It is only a stopping place, Beth. I shall not be staying. I was not summoned here; I have not come to deal death to all and sundry.'

'I did not think for one moment that you had. Is it true that you seek Jerusalem?'

'Not, perhaps, with the same fervour as once I had. But, yes, I seek the Holy City.'

'Why?'

'Why not? There are worse ways for a man to live. When I was a child I lived with my parents and my brother. Raiders came and slaughtered my family. My brother and I escaped and were taken in by another family, but the raiders. .h.i.t them too. I was older then and I killed them. For a long time I was angry, filled with hate for all brigands. Then I found my G.o.d and I wanted to see Him, to ask Him many things. I am a direct man. So, I look for Him. Does that answer your question?'

'It would have, were you younger. How old are you? Forty? Fifty?'